Chapter Two
Now that the whirlwind of activity had ebbed slightly, her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for his face. Hundreds of London’s most elite were gathered in the duke’s grand ballroom, but, of course, the one she was searching for was absent. He was late. Very late. If he were coming at all. But her heart whispered assurances that he would be there. After all, he had promised the duke.
And when one promised something to a duke, they followed through. Didn’t they?
With a hopeful heart, she cast a final glance about the room then sighed heavily when her hope was met with defeat.
“Are you well, dear?” Carlotta, Duchess of Clairmont asked, her voice soft and kind, concern lacing the tone.
“Yes, I am. Simply… overwhelmed,” Bethanny answered, and it was the truth.
Just simply not the whole truth.
“It is quite the crush.” Carlotta gazed about the room, her eyes slightly wide.
Crush was an understatement. Of all the invitations they had sent out, not one had been refused. In fact, she was quite certain there were people here that most had only heard about, never actually seen.
Rumors, or ghosts of the ton.
Like the Viscount Neville.
It was well known among the ton that he had gone into seclusion after the death of his betrothed. Although the rumors abounded, no one seemed to know the full story. The speculation ranged from murder to a quick demise brought on by a broken heart in finding him with another woman.
Honestly, Bethanny hadn’t paid much mind to the gossip surrounding him. But he was far more handsome than she’d anticipated. In a word, he was dark. Jet-black hair, olive skin, and, from this distance, even dark eyes shaded by severe eyebrows.
And a gaze that was met by her own. He lifted a dark brow as if questioning her.
Quickly, Bethanny glanced away. She was curious for heaven’s sake, not interested.
After a moment she dared a glance back, curiosity overwhelming her good sense. Thankfully, he had turned his attention to Lord Benbrooke.
Indeed, everyone was in attendance save the one she wanted.
Suppressing the urge to sigh, she felt Carlotta grasp her hand lightly. “There is no reason to be anxious. You’re a huge success,” she whispered encouragingly.
Bethanny offered her a confident smile.
But her heart was anything but.
“I think I need some air,” Bethanny spoke after a moment. Perhaps if she simply cleared her head, she’d be able to be more circumspect.
Carlotta glanced to her, her expression curious and distrusting.
“I’m in my own home. Honestly, I’m not going to wait in a darkened corner for some rake to assault me. I’ll go around to the part of the house closed off from guests. I’ll be perfectly safe,” Bethanny assured.
Carlotta’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “I’ll go with you—”
“No, it will seem far less conspicuous if I’m alone. If you’re with me…” Bethanny let her words drift. “Forgive my interruption,” she added belatedly, abashed at her rudeness. After all, Carlotta was a duchess, and one did not interrupt someone of such high rank.
“I understand. “ Carlotta regarded her then nodded. “I understand, but you must not be gone long.”
“I’ll only be gone a short time. I promise. I just… I just need a moment to myself.” Without giving Carlotta a chance to change her mind, she spun on her slippers and walked away.
